


Love in Other Words

by Lenny9987



Series: Lenny's Imagine Claire and Jamie Prompts [28]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: Prompt #1 Imagine that after Helwater Jamie comes home and Jenny insists he marry Mary McNab instead of Laoghaire.  Jamie finally relents and they set up a happy home filled with respect that develops into real, deep phileo love.  It may not be the rock your world type of love that Jamie and Claire had/have but it is solid. Then after 20 years, Claire returns… This one could be really, really angst filled.Prompt #2 We all know that if Jamie had to remarry,  Laoghaire was probably the best person for him to marry as a marriage to her was never going to work (between her unrealistic expectations, her jealousy of Claire and Jamie’s apathy after his return from Helwater).  My question is:  don’t you think that if he had married someone (like a Mary McNabb but who wouldn’t necessarily have seen him with Claire) other than Laoghaire, someone he might have actually become friends with and grown to have a genuine affection for, it would have been much harder to reconcile the situation after Claire’s return especially if they had actually had a child or children together?  I would think that he wouldn’t have left his second wife in this situation or would have brought her with him to Edinburgh.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “I know why the Jews and Muslims have nine hundred names for God; one small word is not enough for love.” - Claire in Voyager
> 
> The ancient Greeks had at least four words for love: agape (unconditional love); eros (romantic, passionate, sexual love); storge (familial love); and philia (the love of friendship, regard). 
> 
> Jamie and Claire together share all four.

 

It was Claire. She was really here in the shop with him. At least, he was pretty sure she was real. He could feel the warmth of her in his trembling arms, could smell that fresh, clean scent of her, heard her saying more than just his whispered name. But there was only one way to be _completely_ sure…

“Can I kiss ye?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and blinked at the wetness in her eyes before closing them and tilting her face towards his. Swallowing hard, he refused to close his own eyes as his lips met hers, afraid that she would dissolve just as she had so many times before in his dreams.

But her lips were soft and pliant beneath his own and he let his eyes close as he let his lips part and breathed her in, tasting her as her mouth opened too and their kiss became more desperate, deeper, hungrier.

They parted with a shuddering sigh of relief, knowing they had both felt the same need, the same desire, the same flame that had been there all those years ago. It was still there for them to reclaim if they chose to and heaven help him, but he wanted to––wanted her––more than anything.

He was still getting drunk on the whiskey in her eyes when he heard the door at the front of the shop and Mary’s voice calling his name.

“Jamie? Ye’ll never guess who––” Mary cut off abruptly with a surprised gasp.

“Who’s that?” a familiar voice asked with louder surprise.

Claire stiffened in his arms and her gaze broke from his as she looked over he shoulder at the intruders. He froze, unable to find the words he needed to explain, to push the encroaching world back away from them and the moment they had been sharing when hope had reignited in his heart.

“Oh god,” Claire gasped, pulling away.

Jamie remained speechless and numb in the moment, his mind telling his body to act but his limbs not responding.

* * *

 

_Soon after he returned from his parole, Jenny had made the off-hand suggestion that he marry again. He thought he had made his position on the matter clear but come Hogmanay it became apparent that Jenny hadn’t abandoned her opinion and had, in fact, started to take actions of her own to ensure it happened._

_When he’d seen her talking with Laoghaire and leading the young widow in his direction, he knew it was with one aim in mind. Before they could reach him he had turned to Mary MacNab who was refilling guests’ drinks and he asked her to dance, setting the half-empty bottle she carried aside before she could find her words. Later, Jenny scolded him about the way he’d avoided Laoghaire all evening._

_“Ye want me to court the woman tha’ tried to get Claire burnt for a witch?” he had asked Jenny who looked momentarily surprised but then rolled her eyes._

_“No Laoghaire then but ye ought to be wed again and to someone who might give ye bairns. Ye deserve to be happy again, brother.”_

_“What I deserve is for ye to leave me in peace,” he spat back._

_But Jenny’s hints and efforts persisted and Jamie’s resistance wore thin. Jenny wouldn’t leave him be and he knew eventually she would have her way. The best he could hope for was to choose for himself. The thought of having someone to take care of wasn’t completely unwelcome but the memory of Claire and the thought of their child made the idea of raising a family with another woman… He had no desire for that._

_He’d been contemplating his prospects when Mary had come to fetch him for Ian and that’s when it occurred to him to marry her. It had been several years since her Rabbie had gone south to London seeking a different life for himself while she remained behind; she too was separated from the person she loved most. He thought she might be able to understand him better than most._

* * *

 

“You’re… you’ve…” Claire stammered glancing between him and Mary before shaking her head and darting away from him and out of the shop.

His mind hadn’t quite caught up to everything that had just happened. Maybe it had all been a vision after all…

Mary’s hand was on his shoulder, rubbing him reassuringly and guiding him to a nearby chair. He could tell she was talking and her tone was soothing but all he could think about was that Claire was gone… again. The flame of hope that had been reignited sputtered and shrank leaving him cold.

The fog of confusion began to clear and he sat up straighter in the chair feeling his face flush with guilt and shame. What must Mary think of it all, walking in and seeing him and Claire like that with…

“Where’s Ian?” he asked, glancing frantically around the shop. It wouldn’t be the first time his nephew had appeared on their doorstep without warning and Mary always made sure to bring the lad to the shop since Jamie was one of the few people he would heed.

“I sent him after Claire,” Mary told him, her posture relaxing now that she could be sure he was coming back to himself. “He’ll slow her down at the least till we can find them and ye can talk to her proper like.”

Jamie looked back at the printing press; he hadn’t finished fixing it––couldn’t remember what had been wrong with it, at the moment––and he had orders still to fill, customers who wouldn’t care that a rug had been pulled out from under his feet and he was still sitting on the floor uncertain whether standing again was possible or if the fall had caused something to break.

“I dinna ken that there’s anything I can say to her that’ll make much difference,” he murmured.

“I think there’s a great deal ye can tell her,” Mary disagreed. “And if you dinna want to say it, then _I_ will. Ye can start by askin’ her no to go again.”

At that he looked at Mary whose eyes crinkled with her familiar, quiet amusement.

“Did ye really think I’d ask ye to let her go?” she asked him, reaching up and tucking in the end of his stock.

“I canna do that to ye,” he protested weakly, “set ye aside like that and leave ye alone without someone to provide for ye.”

“Ye wouldna be _settin_ ’ me aside,” she argued softly. “I’m perfectly able to step’ aside wi’out yer help. You and I both ken it willna be difficult for either of us to secure an annulment.”

* * *

 

_The ceremony had been smaller even than the hastily arranged one he’d had when he married Claire. He wasn’t as nervous during the ceremony as he had expected to be but by the time they arrived at their small renovated cottage after nightfall, nerves had begun to twist his belly._

_Neither had said much of anything to the other as they took in the small space that would now be theirs. One large main room with a hearth and small pantry constituted kitchen, parlor, and study; there was a door to the back that led to the small bedroom._

_Mary took off her cloak as Jamie set about shutting the cottage up for the night. When he turned, she had disappeared––presumably into the bedroom––and he sighed with relief._

_He shouldn’t overthink this; it wasn’t as though he hadn’t bedded a woman before––it wasn’t as though he hadn’t bedded_ Mary _before. But it had all been different then._ I know the look of a true love, and it’s not in my mind to make ye feel ye’ve betrayed it… What I want is to give ye something different. Something less, mayhap, but something ye can use; something to keep ye whole. _He wondered if she’d known then that he hadn’t been whole to begin with. But she had given him something and it had helped him then as he faced Ardsmuir. But now…_ I never had that _, she’d confessed. He couldn’t give it to her now either but maybe he could give her something like what she’d given to him in that cave some ten years before._

_When he worked up his courage and eased open the bedroom door he could just make out the shape of the bed in the light of the candle. He stopped, puzzled. He didn’t think he’d been standing out in the main room for very long but maybe it had been longer than he realized._

_Mary was in bed with the blankets pulled up over her chest; she was turned on her side, her back to the middle of the bed and he could see the stark white of her new shift standing out against the darker wool of the blankets. She appeared to already be asleep._

_Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped inside enough to close the door behind him and began stripping down to his shirt then eased himself beneath the covers next to her. He lay there on his back with his fingers nervously tapping his chest as he listened to her steady breathing. Should he wake her up so they could get it over with? He scolded himself for thinking of it in such terms; she was his wife now and she deserved more thought and care than that. Still, he didn’t think he’d be able to settle to anything until it was over and the nerves in his belly could be calmed._

_But Mary wasn’t asleep._

_“Ye ken it doesna have to be like that between us,” she said quietly, startling him._

_He froze beside her, felt the bedding shift under him as she strained to look at him over her shoulder._

_“I ken ye didna wed me because ye wanted to bed me,” she continued, no self-pity in her voice. “And I dinna want ye that way if ye only see it as bein’ yer duty.”_

_“It’s no as though we havena… before,” he answered._

_“And I ken it helped and hurt ye to do it then. Ye feel yerself bound to yer Claire still and I’ll no have ye takin’ me to bed only to feel regretful about it later. I’ve been in marriages where one of us was lyin’ wi’ the other from duty and I’ll no be the one askin’ ye to do the same; it doesna make for the best of marriages in my experience.”_

_He felt a stab of sorrow both for himself and for her. He would forever feel himself bound to Claire and sorrowed that Mary seemed so resigned she would never know what a love like that felt like. But he couldn’t give that to her, whether she wanted that or not and she had wed him knowing that._

_“So why did ye agree to marry me then?” he couldn’t help asking._

_“I suppose for the same reason you asked me.”_

_“Was Jenny tryin’ to make a match wi’ you and another fellow ye didna care for so much?” The joke caught him by surprise but to his relief Mary laughed. It was a quiet laugh, startled by itself._

_“No,” she finally said with a sigh. “I’ve been servin’ yer family at Lallybroch for years now––as ye well know––but since my Rabbie left… It’s different, servin’ folk an’ no buildin’ a home for yerself… no havin’ someone to really care for, to build a home with…”_

_“Aye…” Jamie murmured. “I ken what ye mean.”_

_“I thought ye would,” Mary said with satisfaction. “Caidil gu math… Jamie,” she added with hesitation._

_“Caidil gu math, Mary,” Jamie responded, relaxing into the warmth of a shared bed and the quiet night. It was becoming clear that navigating this new marriage wouldn’t quite be what he had expected earlier but he was also beginning to suspect that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing._

* * *

 

Claire hadn’t looked back as she burst into the street. She was still too disoriented by everything. Seeing Jamie again––touching him, holding him and being held by him––that had all been overwhelming and emotional, more than she could have imagined. And she had known that there was a possibility that he had moved on, that he would have known she believed him dead at Culloden and therefore unlikely to ever return for him. Life was too long to be lived alone; too short to waste it wallowing in grief and sorrow.

“Hey!” she heard a youthful voice calling behind her and made to step out of the way so the lad could get past and reach whomever it was he was trying to catch up with.

But then she felt him reach out and tap her on the arm repeating, “Hey,” breathlessly.

“Me?” she asked in disbelief even as she searched his face for a resemblance to Brianna. The shape of the eyes was right but his coloring was all wrong and while he had the promise of Jamie’s height, he hadn’t endured the growth spurt that would give him the muscles his father possessed.

“Aye,” the boy panted. “Ye’re…”

“I’m leaving,” she interrupted. “You can go home and tell your mother that I won’t be bothering you again.”

The lad’s face twisted with confusion. “My mam? Ye mean Mary? She’s no my mam and Uncle Jamie’s no my da.”

The wave of relief nearly knocked Claire off her feet. The boy wasn’t Jamie’s. And the more she looked at him the more she could see the marks of Jenny and Ian in him––the Fraser slanted eyes if not the color and his gangliness was certainly more in the vein of Ian’s build than Jamie’s. “You’re Jenny and Ian’s boy,” she guessed.

“Aye. Named for my da. Will ye no come back, Auntie Claire? Ye are my Auntie Claire, are ye no? Mary said it’s who ye were. I ken a bit about ye––Mam and Da always said ye were deid but they’d tell tales about ye of a time when Uncle Jamie wasna around. It always makes him sad to talk of ye, even after he wed Mary MacNab,” young Ian Murray rambled. “Mam thinks it’s why they left Lallybroch for Edinburgh; said they’ve too many ghosts roaming there between them. She blames herself for stirrin’ up yer ghost by pushing Uncle Jamie to wed agin though she also says she’d as soon he be content in Edinburgh than miserable at Lallybroch.”

The sheer volume of words and the pace at which he spoke them left Claire blinking and uncertain.

“I… I am Claire,” she said, no longer quite sure of even that simple fact. “But… I’m not interested in disrupting anything. I just thought… I had heard that Jamie… I don’t know what I was thinking,” she confessed turning to continue up the road. She wasn’t even sure if she was headed in the right direction.

“But… ye came back for him… Ye canna just leave,” Ian objected.

“And I can’t just stay, either,” Claire retorted, unsure why she was bothering to argue with the young teenager. “What about his _wife_?”

Ian shrugged dismissively. “She’s the one sent me to get ye.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“I dinna ken. Why don’t ye come wi’ me and ask her?”

Claire looked at the eager lad, her heart aching to believe that if she went with him there was a chance it might stop and curious to see what Jamie’s new wife might have to say.

* * *

 

_In the early days of their marriage, Jamie was surprised by how little he knew about Mary and how much she knew about him._

_“I served at Lallybroch for near twenty years,” Mary pointed out with a laugh when he expressed his surprise aloud. “Ye think I wouldna notice such about everyone that lived there––especially the laird himself?”_

_Jamie flushed. “I’m no the laird and Lallybroch’s no mine anymore; and how many of those twenty years did I live under the roof, eh? No even five did ye string all the nights together.”_

_“Yer nephew may be possessed of the land and the house, but ye ken weel enough to all the tenants as are old enough to remember, ye’ll be the true laird till the day ye die. No sense denyin’ it.”_

_He chose not to argue but rather to change the subject._

_“Have ye heard from Rabbie of late? He’s settled in London still?”_

_“Aye,” she had smiled before giving Jamie a summary of the last letter she’d had from him._

_It took time and effort to get her to talk about herself and her past. As she began to trust him with more of the details of herself and her first two marriages, he found himself sharing more than he expected about his past as well, specifically Claire. He had long ago gotten used to the ache and yearning for her; it was simply a part of him at that point. The comfort of being able to talk of her though, that was new. He couldn’t understand why talking of her with Mary was more soothing and less painful than talking of Claire with people who had known her better––Jenny or Ian. Perhaps it was because Mary didn’t seem to pity him for having been broken by the loss; she too was a little broken._

_Though they grew to understand and appreciate each other, the match itself was considered an odd one by the families that lived and worked around the estate. Mary had been right about folk still viewing Jamie as the laird and the laird––even one as respected and compassionate as Jamie––was not supposed to marry one of his servants. It was a fact that might have been overlooked were it not for the never-to-be-forgotten fact of Ronald MacNab and his betrayal._

_Everyone had pitied Mary at the time and quietly judged Ronald for what he did to his wife and child whenever he’d been drinking. Everyone who heard about the beating Jamie had given the man his mistreatment of those whose care belonged to him had agreed the bullying drunkard deserved it. Everyone had banded together to see justice done for their laird when Ronald betrayed Jamie. Everyone had settled down to their lives after the fire, content that balance had been restored when Mary along with her Rabbie were taken in at Lallybroch and given occupation._

_But Jamie marrying Mary––even so many years later––unsettled that balance in ways that couldn’t be explained. It cast events long past in a questionable light; it elicited narrowed eyes; it encouraged tongues to wag._

_Neither Jamie nor Mary was oblivious to the change and neither wanted to be at the center of such attentions. After going to Edinburgh to fetch some things that Jenny wanted for up at the main house, Jamie proposed a change and Mary agreed that one fresh start deserved another._

* * *

 

“I want ye to be happy,” Mary insisted quietly to Jamie.

“I wasna _un_ happy,” he pointed out to her, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Before I was but… no wi’ you.”

“I’m glad of that,” she told him with a smile. “But I ken ye well enough to know that ye will be if ye let her go again. She can give ye more of what ye need than I can. I’m no ashamed to admit it.”

“And have _you_ been happy?” Jamie asked in turn, suddenly afraid.

“Aye,” she assured him with a nod. “It’s been a peace I didna ken was possible in marriage and for that I’ll always be thankful to ye. I dinna want ye thinkin’ ye havena treated me well.”

“What does it matter how I’ve treated ye in our marriage if I leave it to end like this? I’ll no leave ye wi’out someone to provide for ye.”

“I ken well ye’re too honorable a man to do somethin’ like that, James Fraser.”

“Ye canna stay in a city like this on yer own and goin’ back to Lallybroch would be an insult to ye that I couldna countenance. And there’s nothin’ to say that Claire… She may no want me back…”

“Well, ye’ll never ken for certain if ye dinna talk wi’ her. And ye’re right about Lallybroch; we left for a reason. But ye ken Rabbie’s been after me to visit him in London. He’s wed now and I’ve yet to meet the lass,” Mary mused. “First things first, though. Go after Claire.”

Jamie nodded and rose brushing himself off. Mary set about untying his heavy leather apron for him and gave him directions for the way Ian had set off after Claire.

“I’ll speak wi’ Geordie and lock up here,” she told him. “Then I’ll stop at the butcher and start on supper. Ian will be lookin’ for food after runnin’ about. _Mhá lorg thu i.”_


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Jamie caught up to Ian and Claire, Ian had worn down much of Claire’s resistance. When she saw Jamie and the pleading in his eyes, the rest dissolved. She had come for more than just herself; she had come to bring him news of his daughter and was slightly ashamed to have been so quick to run away.

That didn’t make the prospect of meeting with him in the house he shared with another woman any more palatable, however.

With Ian accompanying them on the walk to that house, there was little either was comfortable saying to the other. Luckily, the lad––who had come to Edinburgh to surprise his uncle and enjoy himself––was more than happy with the excitement of the unexpected turn of events.

“Mam says ye’re the one told her to start plantin’ potatoes and that it’s a right miracle ye did,” he informed Claire as he worked on recounting everything he’d ever heard said of her, the mysterious aunt who healed folk and seemed to have the sight––might even be a fairy or possibly a witch.

“That’s right,” Claire confirmed for him.

“Dinna talk yer auntie’s ear off before we even get home,” Jamie chided, then flushed as he caught Claire looking sideways at him.

Claire took a deep breath as Ian ran ahead to the front door of what must be Jamie and Mary’s house; it looked like the two houses on either side had crowded in on it and in response it had sucked in it’s stomach and raised itself on its toes in an attempt to be taller and skinnier.

Jamie’s hand was suddenly on her elbow helping to guide her up the steps and through the door behind Ian.

It smelled wonderful. Mary had meat roasting in a deep skillet set at the edge of the hearth and Claire thought she smelled some vegetables and butter alongside them. The space, while small, was clean, warm, and inviting. There was already a small pallet in one corner with blankets that Ian was arranging for his use that evening. There were a few shelves with books, a shadow of the study and library he’d had at Lallybroch; perhaps he had even printed those copies himself. A pair of chairs sat opposite each other near the hearth, a basket of knitting and mending next to one, the other in reach of the bookshelves. Claire could easily picture them sitting together in the evening, Mary mending Jamie’s shirt while he read to her.

Jamie kept contact with Claire, his hand drifting from her elbow to the small of her back as he led her inside.

Mary appeared from the doorway that led to the kitchen and dining area and smiled encouragingly at Claire.

“Supper will be ready presently. Jamie can show ye upstairs to wash if ye like.”

Claire turned to Jamie who nodded but she could also see the self-consciousness in the flush creeping up his neck.

The stairway was narrow and steep and Claire was incredibly aware of everything around her as Jamie opened to what could only be the bedroom he shared with Mary. The bed sported two distinct depressions––she couldn’t help noting the space between them; there was a single small table that they clearly shared with Mary’s brush and hair pins on one side and a small stack of paper with a bottle of ink and a single quill marking Jamie’s side.

Claire spotted the second smaller table with its basin and ewer and a small mirror next to the door and moved to do something that, after years of surgery, she found incredibly calming. Jamie poked around the room while Claire poured the water and scrubbed away the dust and sweat of her journey then dampened a nearby cloth to wipe it from her face and neck too. She caught Jamie’s reflection in the mirror watching her from a seat on the edge of the bed as she toyed with some loose tendrils of her hair, repinning them and patting down the frizz.

It was easier for her to begin while not looking at him directly.

“I thought he was your son,” she said quietly.

“I ken what ye thought,” Jamie admitted. “He’s more a son to me than any of Jenny and Ian’s other bairns––they’ve six and near twice as many grandbairns now… But I’ve no children with Mary.”

There was a beat and Claire waited for him to finish the thought _or by any other women_ but when his eyes found hers––even in the reflection of the mirror––she could see that it wasn’t coming. His fear that she would flee again was also evident when his eyes drifted from hers to the door just a foot away. She swallowed then carefully rinsed and wrung out the dirty cloth she’d been using before folding it and setting it next to the basin.

“I _do_ have a son, but I need ye to let me explain,” he begged.

Claire nodded and moved to sit beside him on the bed, her hands flat on the fabric of her skirt.

“Go ahead,” she told him keeping her eyes on the fading redness in her fingers from where she had scrubbed the skin hard from habit.

Jamie told her about his time at Helwater and Ardsmuir before that; about Major Grey and how his brother had spared his life after Culloden; he told her about the cave and the one night he shared there with Mary.

“When we wed––Mary and I––she said that night had been consummation enough though it was years before. That night before I was handed over… she was right––it gave me something that helped me when I went to Ardsmuir… but it took something from me too,” Jamie tried to explain. He couldn’t look at Claire but he could feel her sitting there beside him listening and saying nothing. “I think she didna want me to lose more of whatever it was… that what there was to gain wasna enough to justify that loss.”

“And… you lost some of that with… with the woman at Helwater?” Claire asked.

Jamie nodded. “I dinna quite ken what it is but… I think it’s to do with you… with the man I was when I was with ye; the man ye made me.”

“Did the boy––your son––did… did he give some of it back?”

The corner of Jamie’s mouth ticked up but Jamie shrugged. “Perhaps. He was a braw lad and did bring me joy though I couldna claim him for my own. I didna see him much when he was a wee thing––more when he got so he could walk and would make his nurses mad wi’ findin’ trouble. His mother’s family would ha’ let him commit murder wi’out taking him to task but he minded me well enough and the horses fascinated him. I could see… He didna have my hair––and thank the lord for small miracles for that… but I could see a bit of myself in him and the way he looked. I always… wondered…” Jamie peeked up at Claire then but she was still looking at her hands in her lap. “I wondered… did he look like his brother? Was Brian that old when he walked first or started talkin’… I didna think you would be so indulgent as William’s nurses were.”

“Brian?” Claire blinked, momentarily confused.

Jamie watched tears flood her eyes as his meaning settled and Claire reached for something in her skirt pocket, something that rustled.

“You can see for yourself,” she explained extricating a small packet that had some sort of shiny film encasing it. “But, your William doesn’t have an older brother,” she handed him the packet. They seemed to be some sort of printed paper but of a thick stock and with a shiny finish that was different from the transparent film that Claire had removed. “I called her Brianna,” Claire told him, adjusting the item in his hands so that he could make out the image of a swaddled newborn. “She’s named for both your parents, actually––Brianna Ellen. She _did_ inherit your hair…” Claire pointed to one of the images that was brightly colored, the lass’ ruddy hair vibrant enough to touch. She moved that image behind to stack to bring a new one to the front. Brianna looked out from the photo with annoyance and disgust as laughs escaped both Jamie and Claire. “She’s got more than a bit of your temper and stubbornness too.”

“She’s beautiful, Claire,” Jamie said, his voice full of tears and his fingers gripping the photographs tightly.

She looked up at him with worry. His eyes were still locked on the photos though she knew he couldn’t see them through the tears.

“I’m… I’m so sorry I couldna… that I canna…” he mumbled.

Instinctively Claire slipped an arm around him and guided his head till it came to rest on her shoulder. The photos fluttered as his grip loosened and they drifted to the floor, his freed hands and arms tightening desperately around Claire. She clung to him, too.

“Do ye think… Do ye feel…” Jamie mumbled into her hair.

“What do I feel?” Claire asked before sighing and letting her head rest against his, her cheek pressed to the warmth of his throat. “I feel… tired. I’m tired of missing you; I’m tired of being angry with you for making me go; I’m tired of being scared of what you’ll think or what you’ll say.” As she spoke her tears flowed freely, wetting his throat and dribbling down the back of his neck. She was vaguely aware of his tears dampening the collar of her dress. “I’m tired of living without you.”

“Aye… In twenty years there’s not a day I’ve not thought of ye and longed to have ye with me… that I’ve no wanted to talk to ye or just have yer hand to hold,” he murmured. “Now ye’re here… If ye go again…”

Claire sniffed and turned her face away from his neck, keeping her cheek pressed to his shoulder but looking at the table with Mary’s things on it.

“And what about Mary? If you didn’t have another wife…”

Jamie’s deep breath shuddered through Claire causing her to pick up her head and pull back to look at him. He rubbed at his red and watery eyes.

“If… If Mary _weren’t_ my wife any longer…”

“I didn’t come here to break apart whatever it is you’ve built with her,” Claire interrupted firmly but with evident pain. “I’ve been close enough to the other side before––”

“Frank had a wife before ye and she came back for him did she?” Jamie quipped but Claire wasn’t amused. Jamie bent to begin retrieving the fallen photographs.

“I might not have loved Frank the way I love you––maybe not even the way you care for Mary––but I’ve been close enough to having someone else upend my entire life without asking. I’m not about to do the same to someone else––especially not someone who’s done nothing wrong,” Claire argued.

“Ye’re right… It’s no the same wi’ me and Mary as it was for you and Frank,” he said rising from the bed to retrieve the scattered photographs from the floor. “She never sought to replace ye or made me feel guilty for no bein’ able to let ye go. She’s been a comfort and no mistake but you…” He set the carefully stacked photographs with his things on the table and crossed to take Claire’s face gently between his hands, making it impossible for her to look away from him. “You alone heal me down to my very soul. Havin’ ye near makes me feel whole again, makes me feel stronger. Ye’re the heart of my life.” He bent his head and kissed the tracks of her tears along her cheeks until she took hold of his wrists and offered him her lips.

The kiss left her breathless and the silence stretched between them as he rested his forehead against hers. They could hear the commotion downstairs as Mary told Ian that supper wasn’t ready just yet and the over-eager teen whined about how hungry he was.

“I should go see if she needs any help,” Claire whispered. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jamie nodded and helped pull Claire to her feet. She led the way while he secreted the photographs of Brianna away. 

* * *

Once his stomach was full, Ian curled up on the pallet in the corner and promptly fell asleep.

“Did anyone notice whether he turned around three times first?” Claire asked quietly.

It had surprised her how calm everything had been after she and Jamie came back downstairs; Mary smiled and asked Claire about her journey, about where she’d been and what had happened, how she’d heard about Jamie and found him after all this time. It was impossible not to relax confronted with such warmth and welcome. Ian too had chimed in with questions––what was life like for her in France, had she kept in touch with the other Jacobites who had managed to escape, why hadn’t she written to his parents once she was settled to let them know she lived.

“I’m sorry if it feels like I’m questioning ye too much,” Mary apologized, rising to remove the bowls and dirtied plates. “It’s just… ye always were such a mystery even before.”

“Let me help you wash up,” Claire offered taking her own bowl to the kitchen area. She heard Jamie rising and locking the house up for the night, adding a log to the fire and pulling a third chair over.

Alone with Mary, Claire felt compelled to apologize.

“If I had known about you and Jamie…”

Mary waved a dismissive hand at Claire. “If either of ye had kent the truth about the other bein’ still alive, there wouldna be anythin’ for ye to worry yerself over. It shouldna take too long to straighten this mess.”

“You… _truly_ don’t mind?” Claire asked, still unconvinced.

Mary smiled to herself. “I ken ye didna notice me so much about Lallybroch when ye were there––no wi’ what ye had just gone through yerself.”

Claire blushed at the memory of those early days back in Scotland after everything that had happened in France. It did take a while for the comforts of Lallybroch and the reassurance of having Jamie with her where they belonged had healed those still-fresh hurts.

“I noticed you,” she assured Mary. “I don’t know that I ever told you how sorry I was about what happened to your husband––to Ronald, that is.”

Mary nodded. “I tried to dissuade him, ye ken. After the beating Jamie gave him and Rabbie goin’ to work in yer stables. I tried to get him to leave it but he wouldna heed and… Ye’d done my Rabbie a kindness and I tried to repay ye… tried and failed. And Mistress… that is… _Jenny_ ––she and Ian showed still more kindness givin’ me a place at Lallybroch too after the fire. And when ye came back and Rabbie had his fits…”

Claire heard the thickening of Mary’s voice as she rambled and the somewhat strangled noise as Mary swallowed her tears.

“I ken what ye would say––that ye’d have done as much for anyone––and I’m sure ye would. You and Jamie both… It’s just yer way. But it’s meant so much to me and mine… Yer Jamie needed someone to turn to when ye were gone and I’ve tried to be that for him since I couldna prevent what Ronald did before… I think I’ve done him some good though what he needed of me wasna what I first expected. Now ye’re here the best good I can do for both of ye is to let ye be. No… I _truly_ dinna mind.”

Claire crossed and wrapped Mary in a hug surprising the other woman into briefly laughing before returning the embrace.

“Thank you,” Claire whispered. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Ye’re welcome, Mistress.”

Claire shook her head. “Claire. Please… call me Claire.”

“Ye’re welcome, _Claire_.”

Pulling back and wiping her own damp eyes, Claire rolled up the sleeves of her gown and moved to fetch the large kettle from where it was warming near the hearth, then brought it to the washtub where Mary was depositing the dirty dishes.

“Do you have an idea for what you will like to do once everything is settled? I don’t expect you’ll want to go back to Lallybroch.”

“My Rabbie’s settled in London now––with a wife. He’s asked me to come for a visit a few times now but I’ve no been in a position to do so before…” She looked to Claire conspiratorially casting her glance toward the light from the other room where the crisp sound of a page turning could occasionally be heard amongst the crackling of the fire in the hearth. “I’ve no told Jamie yet––the letter only came yesterday and I didna have a chance to go through it till this morning––but Rabbie writes they’re expectin’ a bairn.”

“Congratulations,” Claire whispered with sincere relief.

“Aye. Ye needna feel ye’re puttin’ me out. Like as not were ye here or no I’d be goin’ to London for a time anyhow. Now I dinna have to feel so torn about comin’ back or no.”

 

* * *

Jamie offered to sleep on the floor by Ian so the two women could have the comfort of a proper bed but Mary wouldn’t hear of it.

“ _You_ ken better than anyone how easy I sleep in that chair,” Mary teased Jamie. “I enjoy the stories well enough but the sound of his voice sends me straight to sleep,” she explained to Claire. “He tried carryin’ me to bed once and put his back out and I scolded him enough he’s never tried it since.”

Claire pursed her lips as she took in the redness of Jamie’s face.

“Are you sure you don’t sleep better down here because you don’t have to listen to his snoring?” she asked, earning a glare from Jamie.

“I dinna snore so loud as _you_ do, Sassenach.”

“Then I’ll sleep doubly well so far from both of yer snoring,” Mary said ushering the two of them to the stairs with a knowing grin that had Claire blushing alongside Jamie.

Nerves overcame Claire when she and Jamie were alone in the bedroom again. She crossed to where she saw Mary’s things and grabbed up the first things that her hands found.

“Mary will be needing these,” she stammered heading for the door again. “I’ll be right back.”

Mary already had a blanket spread in her lap and her feet propped up on a small footstool when Claire hesitantly approached.

“I thought you might want these,” Claire said, placing them on the floor beside Mary’s chair.

“He’s as nervous as you are,” Mary said quietly, her eyes still closed.

Claire rolled her eyes and slipped away again. Knowing Jamie was nervous too didn’t help quell the anxious fluttering in her stomach but it did steel her resolve.

A sole candle lit the room when Claire eased her way back in. Jamie’s clothes had been folded and set aside next to his boots and stockings. She could make out the shape of him sitting up in bed, waiting for her.

Reaching behind her, Claire took a deep breath that she let out as she pulled the zipper of her dress down to the base of her spine, the loose fabric slipping from her shoulders and baring her torso. The rest of the dress fell to the floor in a whisper of cotton a moment later. She swallowed as she stepped out of the dress, out of her shoes, and approached Jamie’s side of the bed in just her stockings.

“Jamie,” she breathed, extending one leg towards him in the dim, flickering light. “Will you help me with these?” There was nothing teasing or sultry in her voice, just a simple invitation to help them ease their way back into something that had once been accomplished with a look, a touch, a sigh.

Jamie shifted to the edge of the bed, his legs sliding free of the blankets. He took hold of Claire’s calf and gently raised her leg higher, resting her foot on one of his knees. His fingers skimmed their way up the silk stocking to find the garter holding it in place a few inches up her thigh and finding the gooseflesh his touch had raised when he overshot his mark.

The silk of her stocking was replaced by the light touch of his lips on her sensitive inner knee. Lowering one leg, she offered him the other and he did the same, resting his hand on her hip when he was done and guiding her closer to him till she stood between his knees. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling his head back so he had to look her in the eye.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted ye more than I do right now.”

She believed him and leaned into his kiss. He pulled her to him, easing back onto his elbows as she knelt above him on the bed before reaching between them and taking him into her. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head lolling back, then a smile lit his face.

“I thought when ye walked into the print shop ye must be a vision––one of my dreams escaped the night and found its way to me in the day,” he murmured as Claire slowly rocked her hips.

“Do you need me to pinch you to prove you’re not dreaming?” Claire offered. Her hand slid through the sparse hair on his chest as she reached for and found one of his nipples, gently squeezing between her thumb and forefinger and making his breath catch, his hands tighten on her waist.

“No, I ken ye’re no a dream,” he said, his hands applying pressure to her hips guiding her slowly forward and then back. “I could always tell when I took ye in a dream that there was something missing––I could feel my blood poundin’ wi’ yearning for ye but my chest felt empty. It’s full now, though; you are my heart restored to me. I am whole again.”

“ _We_ are whole again,” Claire informed him before bending to kiss him once more and smiling against him as his need refused to be contained and he rolled with her so he could ride her hard and fast. They had all night and twenty years to make a start of remedying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'll be back with more of this AU. It will depend on readers' interest in it as well as my own. I have some ideas but nothing I'm super attached to at the moment.


	3. Appendix 1

Jamie and Mary exchanged conspiratorial glances as they wound through the streets of Edinburgh, refusing to tell Claire exactly where they were taking her. 

“Ye’ll approve, Sassenach,” Jamie assured her and Mary nodded, pressing her lips together in an effort to conceal her smile and amusement over Claire’s frustration.

It wasn’t so much that she was bothered by not knowing where she was going. It was seeing the bond between Jamie and Mary. Her emotions were battling one another in the pit of her stomach while her sense of logic, of reason kept trying—and failing—to intervene and break up the fight. 

She was glad that Jamie had found a degree of contentment during their time apart. And she believed both of them when they assured her that their marriage hadn’t involved any sexual intimacy. But it was obvious that there was an intimacy there nonetheless. Not the intimacy of ecstasy or physical pleasure, but of companionship and emotional support. The kind of intimacy Claire had lacked almost completely in the years Jamie was lost to her.

Claire had had Brianna to find joy with, but the relationship between a mother and her child—especially a child still growing into adulthood—could never have the level of support and intimacy as that between two friends. She’d had Joe, true enough. But Joe had Gail and it wasn’t the same as sharing a life with someone. It wasn’t the same as coming home to someone who would listen to the trials and triumphs of any given day. Of coming home to someone who went out of their way to make you smile and laugh. Someone who understood and knew everything about who and what you were, what meant the most to you and where you’re weakest spots were.

Frank had known her weakest spots and was more likely to not so casually bump into them rather than shield them. 

Trapped in her jealous reflections, Claire walked for several yards beyond where the other two stopped before realizing she was alone. 

Jamie waited for her outside a building that looked like a boarding house. He must have sent Mary in ahead. 

Claire sighed and turned to meet up with him again but before she could see what exactly the building was or push her way into it, Jamie slipped one arm around her and tilted her chin up with a finger so he could kiss her.

It helped. She slipped her arms around his waist and leaned into him, resting her cheek to his chest when he released her.

“I dinna like to do that when Mary’s about,” he confessed quietly. “Wouldna feel right to be rubbin’ her face in my own happiness. No that she doesna have a bit of happiness comin’ her own way wi’ her son’s bairn.”

Claire snorted lightly into the front of his coat, feeling foolish for her jealousy of a moment before. It didn’t do anyone any good to dwell on such feelings, on what she didn’t have, especially in time that was lost. It was much more satisfying to focus on Jamie in her arms in that moment.

“It willna be much longer now,” Jamie assured her. “And I’m glad it will be a parting on good terms. We’ve had enough hard goodbyes in our lives.”

“I agree,” Claire said, and meant it, though she was happier about the ‘parting’ half and less concerned with whether or not it was on good terms. 

Jamie pulled back and took her hand, grinning as he tugged her into the building. “Come. There’s someone inside who’ll be surprised to see ye.”

Claire frowned and laughed as she followed, clinging to his hand as they went up a narrow flight of stairs. “Who is it?”

The door across from the landing stood open but the light was pouring through the lacy curtains that hung above the window behind a large desk. Claire could only see the figure pushing up from the chair in silhouette—and Mary standing just off to the side, smiling and looking back and forth, uncertain whose reaction would be the more interesting. 

“Claire? Ohhohoho, Claire!” Ned Gowan’s warm chuckle sounded as he shuffled around the edge of the desk, arms open to embrace her. 

“Ned?!” Claire gaped, looking to Jamie who wore a satisfied and smug expression. “How… how…” she stuttered, cutting herself off before the ‘are you alive?’ could escape her lips and complete the impolite thought. “What are you doing here?” she asked instead.

“Ohhohoho,” he continued, pulling his glasses from his nose and whipping out a handkerchief to wipe them off. “These auld bones dinna take to adventuring in the Highlands so well as they once did.” He brushed the handkerchief quickly across each eye and then his nose before tucking it back into his pocket and returning the glasses to his face. As he peered through them at Claire, she noticed his eyes remained wet. “Oh, I went north when I could to defend men from losing their property when the English were goin’ about floutin’ the law, no caring whether they were taking from the Jacobites or men as played no part in the war. Found myself at Lallybroch a fair few times, returning yer brother-in-law to his wife after he’d been falsely imprisoned. But… most of my work is here now, in Edinburgh,” he finished with a resigned sigh. “I served two chiefs of Clan Mackenzie proudly and would have done unto my death.”

“Colum was lucky to have ye,” Jamie chimed in. “And he knew it, too.”

There was a moment of choking silence before Ned cleared his throat to hurry the moment away. 

“I’m sure you’ve a tale to tell, lass,” Ned said, ushering his guests to sit. He only had two chairs and gave an apologetic glance to Jamie who decided to stand between the two women—slightly closer to Claire’s chair, she noticed, and he rested his hand on her shoulder. She reached up to hold it for herself, drawing strength from its warm presence. “But I suppose it can wait a few minutes more. I guess now why it is the three of ye are here.”

“I would like to have my marriage to Jamie annulled,” Mary spoke up at last. 

Ned’s eyebrows moved a fraction of an inch toward his hairline—he’d worn a wig before but Claire now thought it made him look smaller, somehow… older… 

“Not…  _ divorced _ ?” he sought to clarify.

“Ye heard right,” Jamie told him, squeezing Claire’s shoulder. “Mary and I didna consummate our marriage. Not on our wedding night nor any night since.”

“Well that’s… convenient,” Ned replied, amused and undeniably skeptical. But good attorneys knew when to press and when to let matters lie. “Given that the first Mrs. Fraser has returned and all parties appear to be in agreement on the matter, I dinna expect the courts will choose to investigate the case independently. Nevertheless, we need to be thorough in documenting each of yer accounts of the marriage—how ye came to believe the first Mrs. Fraser was deceased, where ye were and how ye came to be separated from yer husband for so long, my dear—and I’ll need to review both marriage contracts to untangle any questions regarding property and ownership. Anything the second Mrs. Fraser—”

“Please,” Mary interrupted. “I was a MacNab longer’n I ever was a Fraser. There’s no need to be speaking in ways that’ll lead to confusion. Mrs. MacNab or Mary will do.”

Ned nodded and Claire noticed Mary watching her, a self-conscious and apologetic flush rising in her cheeks. 

“Anything Mrs. MacNab brought to the marriage will be returned to her. Though this is to be an annulment, I dinna think it would be amiss if ye wanted to settle something on her for the reduction in her circumstance.” Ned tilted his head at Jamie who took a moment to catch up to the implication.

“Yes… Of course… She’s said she wants to travel to her son and his wife in London. I’m more than happy to cover the expense and provide her with something to make her arrival and settling easier,” Jamie rambled. 

“Ye dinna need to—”

“I  _ want _ to, Mary,” Jamie assured her. 

Ned opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a short stack of paper before retrieving two of his preferred swan feathers from another. He squinted at the tip of the quill, sharpening it carefully and blowing on the point before opening his inkwell. 

“We’d best start with yer statements. Which of ye would like to go first?”


End file.
